Think Better of Me
by Miana
Summary: Faramir recalls past events as he rides to his death.


The eerie silence that swept over the city of Minas Tirith was deafening, the only sound coming forth was the clopping of many horses' hooves upon the stone foundation.  It ricocheted off the white walls of the city, each pace signaling the approaching doom for the riders.  A babe's cry echoed through the street, growing louder as more riders passed.  Flowers flew like enemy arrows at the riders, falling to the stone ground to be trodden on by their steeds.  

Before them all rode their captain, silent as the grave as they came to the bottom tier of the city.  No expression but bitter sadness was marked on his face, his gray eyes not moving from the path before him.  The gates of the city opened, Faramir not even meeting the eyes of the guards the stood near the gates.  Before him, the barren field of Pelennor lay, the blackness of Mordor as its background.  He sucked in a breath of air before urging his steed forward onto the road.

_He will remember it before the end_…  Mithrandir's words burned into the back of his mind, betraying his visage as tears threatened to come from the internal well that he had worked so strongly on to cap.  His own father had confirmed what he had feared to be true, that he would never forgive him for his brother's death.  He had not even forgiven him for the death that he had not caused.

Faramir remembered the day all too well._ He was but a child of five, standing on the steps of the citadel.  He wore the traditional garb of a Citadel guard, the black velvet surcoat resting atop the chain mail he wore.  The city had been just as silent, the crowd gathered in the Court of the White Tree with a lone path leading to Silent Street.  He could feel someone reach over and grab his hand, turning a teary eye to the boy on his right.  Boromir gave a small encouraging smile to his younger brother.  The ten year old was concealing his sorrow better than his sibling, yet Faramir could see the small shimmer of tears as they threatened Boromir's eyes.  _

_Four guards proceeded towards Silent Street, walking silently as they bore aloft the body of Finduilas, her once cream skin now pale as death.  Faramir watched the guards take his mother away to prepare for her journey back to Dol Amroth.  He would not go; his father deemed him too young to make the journey on horseback.  Boromir would go, as would his father, but he would remain in Minas Tirith under Mithrandir's watchful eye.  _

_He turned his_ _eye to the man behind_ _him, seeing the same_ _strong expression that_ _was etched onto Boromir's face evident_ _on his father's face.  Denethor_ _stood behind his sons, cold_ _and silent_ _as the stone statues_ _that lined the Citadel.  He watched_ _Finduilas's body_ _pass down the way_, _lowering his eyes when_ _she could no longer be seen.  Faramir caught Boromir_ _turning his head_ _as well out of the corner of his_ _eye, the two boys_ _looking up to their father_.  

_Denethor raised his eyes to his sons, giving a small smile as he reached out a hand and touched Boromir's cheek.  He turned his cool eyes to Faramir, his smile lessening.  He tentatively reached out a hand to do likewise, but his hand faltered, recoiling back to his side.  Faramir let another small tear run down his cheek as he looked upon his father in wonder.  Denethor was fixated upon his eyes.  The same eyes that his mother had.  The Steward shifted his gaze, turning and leading the way into the Citadel.  The court slowly began to disperse, leaving the two boys standing on the steps.  Denethor stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to his sons.  "Come, Boromir.  We must prepare to depart."  _

_Boromir cast a look at his little brother, squeezing his hand tightly before rushing up the stairs to his father's side.  Denethor clasped the young boy's shoulder, turning and continuing into the Citadel.  Faramir stood on the steps alone, watching his brother and father disappear into the white hall.  _

_He lowered his head and looked to the ground as another batch of hot tears made their way from his eyes.  For once in his life, he felt utterly alone.  His mother and his brother had been his constant companion, and now both were robbed of him.  _

_He felt a reassuring_ _hand gently grab his shoulder,_ _turning a bleary eye up_ _to see an old man_ _standing behind him.  His_ _face was mostly hidden_ _behind his_ _large gray bushy beard and_ _tall hat, but his blue_ _eyes sparkled nonetheless._  _Faramir attempted_ to _smile up at Mithrandir,_ _feeling that_ _he was suddenly not so alone_.

"Form ranks!"  Faramir's sharp voice rang out as they began to cross the fields of Pelennor.  He turned his steed to observe his men, who scurried to form two solid ranks.  He pushed his horse to join them, taking his place in the middle of the first rank, eyeing the lines to make sure they were somewhat presentable.  "Remember the oath you swore to your Steward!  Remember those whose lives you are here to save!  Forward!"

_"Faramir, are you paying attention?"  _

_Faramir tore his eyes from the window, looking to his teacher.  Mithrandir's frown was evident as he held open a book of Quenya, attempting to get his pupil to pay attention long enough to finish the lesson.  "I am sorry, Mithrandir…"  Faramir lowered his eyes back to his book, seeing the flowing script before him.  A few symbols stood out in his eyes, Faramir barely listening to Mithrandir as he spoke. _

_"Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya…"  Mithrandir could see that he had long lost his pupil's interest, closing his book and setting it aside.  "What troubles you, Faramir?"_

_"He has been gone for three months, Mithrandir," Faramir answered, closing his book as well.  "I fear he shall not return."_

_Mithrandir gave a_ _small smile._  _"Boromir is a_ _strong lad.  You_ _need not fear for him."_  

_Faramir tried to return the smile, looking down at his hands with a slight blush.  Mithrandir had always been able to see right through him and find his troubles out.  He reached his hand out to pick up the book once more, when he heard the clear ringing of silver trumpets.  His eyes snapped to the window, Faramir throwing aside his chair and rushing to it.  In the distance, he could see a garrison of riders approaching the city, lead by an unmistakable figure.  "Boromir!"  Faramir ran towards the door, stopping at the threshold and remembering his place.  He quickly eyed his teacher, who gave a small nod as a smile slipped onto his face.  Faramir grinned broadly, then ran out of the room, heading through the back ways of the Citadel and rushing out into the sunlight.  He ran into the open courtyard, rushing past the guards and heading down into the seventh tier.  People had gathered in the streets, making it hard for Faramir to weave between them as he headed to the sixth level.  _

_He could hear barely hear the clopping of horse hooves over the sounding of the trumpets, which was bringing more people into he streets.  He heard cheering from one of the lower levels of the city, pushing his way through until he reached the fifth tier of the city.  As he continued to run, he could hear the cheering grow louder, finally making his way to the fourth tier, where he stopped in the middle of the street as a battalion of riders approached.  He doubled over as a stitch in his side evolved from the running and weaving, but soon forgot it as he saw a familiar face leading the group.  _

_"Faramir!"  Boromir's smile spread across his face, the faint outline of a beard beginning to grow on his youthful face.  His features remained that of one who was but one and twenty years, yet Faramir immediately recognized his smile.  Many of his men were dismounting; hugging loved ones that came near.  Faramir rushed to his brother's side, Boromir reaching down his left hand.  Faramir clasped it, shocked at how easily Boromir had then pulled him up behind him onto his steed.  "Come, Little Brother.  We have must to speak of!"  Boromir hurried his horse up towards the Citadels, the guards at each level merely smiling as they opened up the gate.  The sons of the Steward had no need for passwords.  _

_"So tell me, where did you go?  What did you see?  Were you in any battles?"_

_Boromir laughed heartily, turning his head to glimpse back at his brother.  "This is not the brother I left at home.  The Faramir I knew wished to learn about the ways of the philosophers and history, not of combat!"_

_Faramir blushed slightly as they continued up the city at a slow pace.  "I admit, my studies have been thus.  But through the history of warfare, I have learned much and wish to learn even more."_

_"Mithrandir is a good tutor, I presume?" Boromir asked, waving briefly at a small child who was running up to his horse.  _

_"He is better than anyone could hope for," Faramir admitted.  "But tell me, how are things in the outer world?  My mind had grown restless confined by these walls."_

_Boromir passed up into the sixth level of the city, slowing his horse as he wished to speak to his brother before their father met them.  "The world has changed much.  Fear is beheld in the eyes of most; a nameless fear growing in the east."  He gave a small sigh.  "War is so different, Faramir.  You can spend endless hours reading of them, and yet when you find yourself in one…  Time seems to pass without thought, yet at the same time take a life age to finish."  He sobered momentarily, lowing his head slightly.  "We lost many men."  _

_Faramir clasped his brother's left shoulder, giving him a small smile.  "It does my heart well to see you alive, dear brother."  _

_Boromir eyed his brother, smiling softly. "As it does mine to see you so well, Faramir."  _

_They reached the Citadel, Boromir halting his steed near the white tree.  Their father was making his way down the steps, his group of advisor's following.  Faramir slid off the back of the horse, holding the reins as Boromir dismounted.  He noticed that his brother put no weight on his right arm, stifling a groan as he landed on the ground.  Faramir looked over his brother with worry.  "You're wounded."_

_"It is not much.  Just the painful memory of the Orcs we encountered.  I shall be fine."  He peered over his horse to make sure his father was still a safe distance away before tentatively moving his arm, gasping in pain as he tried to move his shoulder.  _

_"I'm going to fetch Ioreth," Faramir said, turning to head towards the House of Healings, yet Boromir grabbed him with his good arm.  "Nay, Faramir."  He peeked once more at their father before drawing his face close to his brothers.  "I shall not have him see me in pain."  At Faramir's worried expression, he continued, "I promise to go to Ioreth straight after I speak with Father.  I promise," he repeated, letting go of his brother as he walked to the other side of his horse, putting on a broad smile as his father approached.  _

_"My son!"  Denethor held his arms wide open as he engulfed his son in an embrace, laughing merrily.  Faramir stood near the horse still, stroking the beast's nose as he watched his brother.  A servant soon approached, bowing slightly before taking the reins of the horse from his hands and leading the steed off towards the stables.  Faramir slowly began walking to join his brother, freezing as his father's cold eye came upon him.  _

_"You ride off to battle while your brother stays and reads," he said critically, Boromir turning to eye his brother with a sympathetic look.  "He is still a lad, Father.  Be not so critical on him."_

_"You were younger than he is when you began your training," Denethor reminded harshly.  He caught Faramir's eyes, holding them for only so long before he had to pull back.  He eyed Boromir once more, smiling broadly.  "But come.. let us prepare a feast!  For my son has returned home to me!"  He laughed once more as he clasped Boromir on the right shoulder, Faramir seeing his brother wince.  Denethor spotted it not, turning his son towards the Citadel.  _

_Faramir stood near the white tree, watching his brother slowly move into the Citadel with his father.  He felt loneliness consume him once more, bowing his head slightly and heaving a sigh.  He felt a hand touch his shoulder, turning to see Mithrandir once again standing near him.  He gave a weak smile to his tutor, then looked ahead at the Citadel.  "I wished to be trained for the military, Mithrandir.  As soon as possible." _

_Mithrandir said nothing, only giving a similar sigh.  "You wish, or your father wishes?" he asked quietly.  Faramir gave him not answer at first, his cool gray eyes piercing ahead.  "I wish for nothing more than to please my father, Mithrandir.  I wish to be trained."_

Faramir could feel his heart pounding in his chest as they began to streak across the fields of Pelennor.  Before them, Osgiliath lay in ruins, it's once white form now a twisted mass of white marble and black smoke.  The sound of the horse hooves began to drone out of his mind until the only noise left was his own breathing.  Fear shook through every fiber of his body, yet he pressed on.  Finally, he pulled out his sword, aiming it high at the oncoming city. For Gondor, he thought quietly.    

_"__ This city was once the jewel of our kingdom, a place of light and beauty and music, and so it shall be once more! Let the armies of Mordor know this: never again will the land of my people fall into in enemy hands! The city of Osgiliath has been reclaimed for Gondor! For Gondor! For Gondor!__"_

_Faramir pushed his way through the streets of Osgiliath, the men cheering and laughing loudly.  For weeks the Rangers had fought to take back the city, yet it was not until Boromir and his men arrived that the enemy was pushed back across the river and back into Mordor.  He slid through two men, smiling broadly as he approached his brother, drawing him into a hug.  _

_"Good speech.   Nice and short," he jested, making Boromir laugh.  Though he had grown up indeed, Boromir's laugh had remained the same.  "Leaves more time for drinking!" Boromir joked in return, causing both brothers to laugh loudly.  He turned to his men.  "Break out the ale!  These men are thirsty!"  The cheer of the men sounded loudly through the city as the barrels were brought forth._

_Boromir immediately seized two frothing mugs of ale, smiling at his chuckling brother.  "__Remember today, little brother.  Today," he added, clinking his mug against his brother's, "life is good."  He took a drink of his ale, Faramir following suit.  _

_The younger gave a content sigh as he lowered his mug, eyeing the crowd of men.  His visage went of one of joy to immediate displeasure.  His proud shoulders sunk slightly, the smile gone from his face._

_"What?" Boromir laughed, seeing his sudden change of emotion.  Faramir eyed his brother once more, his face painfully placid.  "He's here."___

_Boromir followed where his brother's eyes had just been, seeing an all too familiar face coming through the crowd.  He was chuckling and congratulating soldiers as he broke through the crowd.  Boromir shook his head back to his brother, mumbling in an exasperated tone, "One moment of peace, can he not give us that?"        _

_"Where is he?"  Denethor broke through the crowd, a look of smug pride evident on his face as he approached his son.  "Where is Gondor's finest?"  Boromir exchanged a quick glance with his brother before facing his father.  "Where is my firstborn?"_

_Boromir quickly pulled on a fake grin. "Father!" he called, walking over to his father's open arms and embracing him.  Denethor let out a small laugh as he did so.  He drew his son back, clasping his shoulder tightly.  "They say you vanquished the enemy almost single-handed," he commended, pride dripping in his voice._

_"They exaggerate," Boromir said quickly with a grin, turning to his brother.  "The victory belongs to Faramir also."  _

_Faramir tried to stand proud as he father's gaze met his, the cool eyes of Denethor piercing harshly into his skin and making Faramir nervous.  He began walking towards his father, Boromir still smiling pleasantly.  _

_"But for Faramir, this city would still be standing," Denethor said harshly, causing the smile to fall from Boromir's face and turning Faramir's feet to lead.  He stopped in his walk, pain filling his eyes as he saw the smug visage return to his father's face.  "Were you not entrusted to protect it?"_

_Faramir saw Boromir lower his head, unable to meet their father's gaze.  He tried to think clearly on how to defend himself, eyeing Boromir quickly.  His brother met his gaze, Faramir proclaiming, "I would have done, but our numbers were too few."_

_Denethor's visage remained unwavering.  Boromir eyed his brother approvingly, yet, lowered his head as his father spoke once more.  "Oh, too few."  His sarcastic smile strayed from his face, replaced by bitterness.  "You let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim."  _

_Faramir found no words to retort, pain filling his visage as he stood before his father and took the blame.  Denethor brushed past Boromir, advancing upon his youngest son.  He lowered his voice, speaking harshly.  "Always you cast a poor reflection on me."_

_"That is not my intent," Faramir replied, trying to subdue both his anger and his pain.  Denethor observed his son, his eyes flickering from Faramir's gray ones after a few moments.  _

_Boromir leaned towards his father, bitterness in his voice.  "You give him no credit, and yet he tries to do your will."  He walked away from his father, Denethor quickly turning and following.  _

_Faramir remained motionless, lowering his head as his father walked off.  Through the noise of Osgiliath, he could barely hear the slightly raised voice of Boromir, then he heard no more.  He dared not cry, for such an act would not have been appropriate before the men, yet in his heart he wept.  He suddenly missed Mithrandir; though the Maia's ways and strange beliefs were sometimes unbelievable, he had still become more of a father than Faramir's own blood had been. Yet he had been gone for too long…___

_"My place is here with my people!" Faramir brought his eyes up, seeing Boromir come towards him with anger etched onto his face.  "Not in Rivendell!"_

_Denethor came quickly after, an equally angry visage upon his face.  "Would you deny your own father?"_

_Faramir quickly stepped forward.  "If there is need to go to Rivendell, send me in his stead."  He saw Boromir's incredulous look, looking not at his brother but trying to face his father.  _

_"You?" Denethor asked, a look of humor creeping into his smile.  He laughed shortly.  "Oh, I see."  He slowly began approaching his sons, the smile clearing from his face.  "A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality."  Faramir held his gaze, knowing already that his father would refuse.  "I think not."_

_Faramir's gaze fell slightly as Denethor continued.  "I trust this mission only to your brother.  The one who will not fail me."  He eyed Boromir quickly, then turned and walked away.          _

_  
Boromir chanced looking at his brother, slowly reaching over and placing a hand upon Faramir's shoulder.  Faramir said__ nothing, raising his eyes and catching the attention of a nearby officer.  "Prepare Captain Boromir's horse.  He makes for the city."  The officer nodded his head, then headed off towards the stables.  _

_Boromir sighed slowly, looking over his little brother.  "I shall stop in Minas Tirith for supplies.  I expect Father will send several of the Lords and Princes with me to the North."  _

_Faramir nodded, unable to meet his brother's gaze.  "I blame you not, Boromir," he said quietly, turning and walking away from his brother.  _

_Boromir's horse had quickly been readied, Boromir gathering his shield and other weapons.  He mounted his horse, giving a small sigh as he tilted his head back to look at the white banner of Gondor, fluttering in the wind.  He lowered his eyes once more, seeing Faramir slowly approach.  The younger looked at the ground, then slowly raised his eyes to his brother's gaze.  Sadness was etched over his face, pain filling his eyes.  _

_Boromir gave his brother a weak smile.  "Remember today, little brother."  He saw the corners of Faramir's mouth move into a small smile.  He felt torn between his family; he wished to please his father, yet he loved his brother.  Boromir drew in a small breath, then turned his horse towards the exit of the city, slowly riding off and leaving his brother once more alone._

Faramir held his sword aloft, advancing towards Osgiliath.  Through the rubble, he could see the dark specks of Orcs.  He saw how outnumbered he truly was, wishing to retreat back to the walls of Minas Tirith.  Yet the thought of facing his father was unbearable.  

_"If I should return, think better of me, Father."  Faramir eyed the small Perian that stood near his father, compassion and disbelief intermixed on the small creature's face.  Peregrin had donned his black surcoat, the White Tree etched perfectly upon the soft material.  It was obvious that Denethor preferred the companionship of the small creature over his own son, yet Faramir could not lay the blame on the small lad.  He was Frodo's kin, and from what Faramir could see in his eyes, Peregrin Took held that same compassion that his cousin did.  _

_Faramir turned and slowly began walking from the Citadel, bracing himself to prepare for his last march.  The voice of Denethor rang out behind him.  "That would depend upon the manner of your return."  Faramir stopped not, but continued out of the great halls, wishing a silent farewell to the stone statues that he had observed since he was a child.___

Faramir could see the outline of the Orcs; each had a bow and arrow drawn.  He drew in his breath, closing his eyes as he saw the onslaught of arrows fly into the air.  He feared not death; he had been dead to his father most of his life.  He found one source of comfort, however; he soon would be back with Boromir.  A small smile claimed his lips at the thought, filling him with hope.  Then all went black.     


End file.
